


Cheque Please!

by vicewithavice



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Blowjobs, M/M, consent is important!, not the most accurate depiction of sugaring but i try, rating will go up and tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicewithavice/pseuds/vicewithavice
Summary: Bitty is a sugar baby. Jack is the rich star of the Falconers with money to spare.Bitty has no idea who Jack is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this was a long time coming. This fic is mostly finished, and I'll update it weekly. 
> 
> I'd like to apologize for the pun title. I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Comment and kudos are how I know I'm not sending this fic directly into the void <3 you can find me on tumblr @ thehausghosts

In his line of work, Bitty knows the importance of making an entrance. First impressions are everything; the difference between leaving a bar with a new sugar daddy or leaving empty handed and back at square one. He’s mastered the art of walking through a doorway, chin up, shoulders out, pausing to scan the room for his date, the power of a convincing smile and confident strides. When he does it right, the whole room will turn their eyes on him, not because there’s anything special about him, but because he knows how to act like there is, knows how to be the kind of person someone will spend thousands of dollars on to spend time with. He’s more than just arm candy - he’s a conversationalist, teaching himself the jargon of his clients’ professions, a therapist, listening to them vent about work or family, no matter how petty it seems, a mind-reader, giving them what they want before they even know to ask for it. Bitty’s always had people skills, always knew how to navigate a conversation to the best outcome and read the tells that flicker on his partners’ faces. He never imagined this was how he would use those skills, but it’s lead him to where he is today. Specifically, inside Providence’s most renowned restaurant.  

Tonight Bitty has to switch up his game plan.

Bitty shows up at the restaurant half an hour before the set time, making sure that he’s there first. From the messages they’ve exchanged, Bitty knows this new potential sugar daddy is a bit squeamish and would be uncomfortable waiting alone; Bitty wants to keep him at ease. A happy sugar daddy is a generous sugar daddy, after all, and Bitty needs to keep the income flowing. After taking some time off after things fell through with his last client, Bitty is ready to win this man over. He's dressed in his best suit, expertly tailored for the most flattering fit, his hair painstakingly arranged into the perfect coif. A restaurant like this will be filled with beautiful people in beautiful clothes and it's Bitty's job to make sure he's the one that catches all the attention. Bitty is paid to be a reflection of his sugar daddy, so if he isn't the most charming person in the room, the most meticulously styled, who would pay to keep him around?

He walks up to the host station, pleased to see his favourite hostess standing behind the podium. He first met Lardo in college, but being in different years and different majors, they never saw much of each other except for chance meetings around campus. Once Bitty started sugaring, he was excited to see Lardo working here, a friendly face amidst the cycle of changing sugar daddies, and after they caught up she promised to keep an eye on Bitty during dates while Bitty encourages clients to tip generously. 

“Lardo! Girl, I’m so glad you’re working tonight.”

“‘Sup, dude- or,” she clears her throat when another staff member walks past. “Good evening, sir.” When they’re clear, she leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “Here for a date?”

Bitty nods. “I’m here with a POT. A potential new sugar daddy,” he clarifies. “The reservation’s under Jack. I don’t know his last name.”

Lardo scans the book. “He didn’t give one. But he must be hella connected because we had to move the mayor and his wife into the patio to give him a table.”

Lardo leads him to a quiet table away from the main room, and Bitty’s impressed with how Jack managed to book such a private table on short notice; they only set up this date a few days ago. When she leaves, he eyes all the exits to make sure none of them are blocked, a habit that’s saved his hide when he’s had to make some quick and inconspicuous exits.

Setting up this meet and greet with Jack has set off more than a few red flags, enough that he thinks he must be losing his touch for agreeing to be here- the POT wouldn’t tell Bitty his last name, didn’t share how he earned his money, or really anything else about himself. Even his profile picture was taken from a distance, a shot of Jack kayaking across a lake, and Bitty couldn’t make out his face, but the muscle definition in his shoulder and arms were impossible to miss. Maybe it’s because Jack is a solid twenty years younger than most of of his past sugar daddies that made him agree to this date, or because Jack never once asked Bitty for nudes or sex on the first date, and didn’t speak with the self-aggrandizing phrases past sugar daddies spouted, but instead seemed shy, a challenge for Bitty. Whatever it is that makes Bitty overwrite the red flags, Bitty follows it. He trusts his gut; it’s gotten him out of some potentially terrible situations, and it’s lead him to great ones.

Jack shows up ten minutes later looking more handsome than Bitty anticipated and incredibly nervous. Bitty stands when Jack approaches, giving him a warm smile and Jack holds his hand out to shake. He’s in a simple suit, the fabric visibly luxurious even if the tailoring leaves something to be desired, and Jack must see him looking because he fidgets with his tie and asks if he looks okay.  

“You look handsome as all get out,” Bitty assures him, and that’s putting it mildly. It takes all of his self-control not to lean over and catch a glimpse of Jack’s ass in those pants. If Bitty were to guess, he’d put Jack at around thirty years old, his face still young and soft, but a hint of lines showing around the eyes and creasing his forehead. He is, quite frankly, stacked, his muscles visible even through the layers of his suit. “But if I could make one small suggestion, I think a steel gray tie would look amazing with your eyes.”

Jack relaxes into his chair, flattered, but he doesn’t offer any reply. Bitty knew going in that getting Jack to open up would be a challenge, but he’s sure now it’s going to take all of his southern charm to warm him up. Experience taught him that nothing does the trick like asking a guy to talk about himself. Ask a few open ended question and throw in some “really?”s and “how do you mean?”s, and Bitty will be listening to someone’s life story for hours. No one loves to talk about themselves as much as rich guys.

But Jack is slow to open up, answering Bitty’s questions in short phrases, his hands fidgeting on his lap, closed off. His eyes dart around the room, tracking the slightest movement, and Bitty doesn’t have to be an exceptional body-language reader to see how uncomfortable he is. He nearly flinches when the waitress comes by to get their drinks, and only orders a glass of sparkling water for himself, but at least he doesn’t assume to order something for Bitty.  It’s a good thing Bitty is the master of small talk - he kicks it up an extra notch, delving into the meatier topics that he usually saves for the main course.  When Bitty asks what Jack what he does for a living, he’s especially reluctant to divulge more than just a conversation ending “ah, it’s pretty boring.”

Bitty doesn’t doubt that. Most of his sugar daddies have had incomprehensible jobs which seemed to revolve around numbers and not doing much actual work, but Jack’s job is what Bitty is most curious about because it gives him an idea how much money Jack’s making. Bitty takes a second to contemplate, but answers with a laugh, commenting that with looks like his, Jack must be some movie star. This is where he would reach across the table and lightly touch Jack’s wrist, but Jack has both hands under the table.

New tact, then. Bitty asks about Jack’s accent, which is hard to place without hearing Jack talk more. Jack sounds self-conscious about, asking if it’s really that strong still.

“Nah, it’s not that strong. I guess I just notice it because I have my own.”

“I like your accent,” Jack says earnestly.

“Well, thank you. I don’t mind it anymore, but before I went to college I tried to get rid of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, sure,” Bitty tells Jack about his insecurities coming to the northeast with a strong southern accent. He always thought people would make assumptions about him, but he realized pretty quickly that people didn’t care that much. The worst part was telling his classmates repeatedly that no, he wasn’t from Texas, and yes, he’s sure.

“You went to college?” Bitty has half a mind to be offended - why do people think a sugar baby can’t be educated? -  until Jack follows it up with “I loved college. Where did you go?”

Bitty thinks on how to reply. He doesn’t make a habit of talking about his personal life with clients, usually because they never bother asking. Keeping himself safe is always a priority, and the less they know about him, the better; it’s why he only ever goes by his nickname. Eventually, he decides talking about school won’t reveal too much, so he briefly mentions his time at Rhode Island College and his American Studies degree. He tries to turn the conversation back to Jack, but Jack has more questions, curious about his classes and profs. It’s the most he’s spoken all night, and Bitty can see the lines of his shoulder relaxing as Bitty tells him about course syllabi and some of his more memorable assignments.

“I studied history,” Jack says, offering the first piece of information about himself. “Mostly twentieth-century North American history. I did my thesis on phys ed programs during the second world war and- ah. Sorry.” Jack blushes and drops his head. “That’s probably pretty boring.”

Bitty leans forward, still keeping his hands to himself but making his interest known. “Tell me more about it.” He smiles.

The waitress comes by again to take their orders, and Jack cuts himself off completely like he was discussing top military secrets and not the subject of his thesis.

“Go on,” Bitty says when the waitress leaves. Jack hesitates only a moment, like he can’t quite believe someone is willing to listen to him, but he looks so happy to do it that Bitty would let Jack ramble on for hours. True, the topic isn’t one that Bitty ever took much interest in, but the way Jack talks about it, animated and forgoing his previous monotone, would hold Bitty’s attention for as long as Jack speaks.

A group at a large table nearby stand and make their way to the exit, and Bitty notices a few of them looking at Jack and whispering to themselves. Jack doesn’t turn his head, but Bitty can see that he notices them, the tips of his ears burning red and his speech stuttering and fading as they walk by. None of them come up to the table, but the recognition on their faces is obvious. Do they know Jack from somewhere?

When they pass, Jack relaxes a little, but his hands are fists on the table, and he’s lost his train of thought.

“I just want you to know,” Bitty says, his voice low and serious. “That if you’re worried about it, discretion is a strong suit of mine. When we’re out in public, I’ll follow your lead, okay?”

It’s not Bitty’s first time with a closeted client, some of them more than likely married, and Bitty’s learned to walk the fine line of acceptable platonic affection while still buttering up his sugar daddy with compliments and making him feel wanted.

Jack looks around; the group is gone and everyone is busy with their food. Jack’s foot creeps under the table and knocks at Bitty’s, a silent thank you. It feels like an accomplishment, and Bitty gives himself a win for getting a bit of physical contact out of Jack. He feels hopeful that this can work out.  

“So have you had a relationship with anyone surprising?” Jack asks, leaning in conspiratorially.

Bitty shoos him back. “That’s none’a your business.”

Jack grins. “Just checking.”

“Are you testing my discretion, Mister?”

Jack’s grin becomes more lopsided, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and Bitty recognizes this as a rare appearance of what must be Jack’s very dry sense of humour. Emboldened, Bitty asks again about Jack, keeping his tone light and easy.

“So Jack,” Bitty sips at his wine. “You won’t tell me about your job, or your hometown, or your family.” He drops his voice into something sultry. “What will you tell me?”

“Ah- That you’re really attractive and it makes me nervous.” He pauses, then cringes at himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t do this often. Actually, it was my friend who made my Tinder account. He thought I needed to get out more. I guess I do, eh?” He finishes the sentence with a self-deprecating shrug and a long swig of his water.

Bitty assures Jack that he’s been great company (not quite true, but he’s getting better) and he understands that not everyone is a natural born extrovert like him. “I’m glad you were able to step out of your comfort zone and message me. I’m having a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too,” Jack says.

Their food arrives and the conversation halts as they start eating. Bitty’s meal is amazing, and his fish is cooked in a sauce that he’ll try to work out later and add to his recipe collection. Jack politely and insistently eats his steak with an appetite that has Bitty swooning.  

“You know.” Jack dabs at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. Such manners. “I was pretty hesitant to message anybody, because work is… it keeps me busy, and my coworkers don’t know about… uh. Me. It’s hard meeting people.”

Bitty nods, not too sure where Jack is going with this.

“But when my friend saw your account,” Jack continues, “he told me you were a professional, and might be more willing to work around my schedule if I put in the money.” Now they’re getting into the heart of the conversation, the topic that Bitty would have to bring up soon. He lets Jack finish. “Money- I don’t care about it. I have more than I can spend on myself.”

Bitty straightens his back and puts on his game face. Usually he waits until dessert to bring it up, but now that Jack brought it up, it’s time to dig in. Talking money never seems to get easier, and even some of the more seasoned sugar babies have confessed that it’s still awkward for them to bring up. But it’s part of the job, and if he does it well, he’ll be done worrying about his income for a while.

He segues into it by asking about Jack’s schedule, and tries to keep his shoulders from drooping when Jack says he has a job that keeps him out of town a couple of weeks each month. His mind races; is it worth it to keep things going with Jack? He might need to find someone else, but more sugar daddies is going to require a lot of time and careful scheduling. He could end things and find someone with more free time, but the truth is, there aren’t many young, attractive men looking for sugar babies, and the fact that Bitty found one is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not that Bitty minds having an older sugar daddy, but well, it’s hard to imagine passing up Jack for another fifty year old, even if they do make more money.  

“But…” Jack continues,. “Coming back to an empty house- it’s hard sometimes, and I just think it would be, uh, nice to have someone there when I get back. Is that strange?”

“Of course not, honey. Wanting someone to come home to is the most normal thing in the world.”

Jack looks smitten at the name, and he smiles a small smile. “Honey. I like that.” He says it like he’s admitting a secret.

“Well get used to it, sweetheart, I got a lot more.” Bitty finishes the last of his wine, but declines Jack’s offer of another glass. “I think we should talk numbers.”

When Jack nods, Bitty continues. “I charge seven hundred and fifty dollars per date, paid cash or transferred to my bank account, non negotiable.” He waits for Jack to make a comment or an excuse as to why he can’t pay that, and he’s relieved when Jack stays silent. He’s had plenty of first dates where potential sugar daddies revealed themselves to be plain old salt, balking at Bitty’s prices. “If you’re looking for a more all-inclusive experience, then I’ll accept a monthly allowance of nine to eleven thousand, but I’m willing to work with you on a mutually beneficial amount.”

Jack takes his time considering the options, and decides he’d prefer to pay per date. “For now,” Jack says, “until things settle down at work.”

In Bitty’s experience, ‘for now’ means ‘forever’ but he tries not to look disappointed. An allowance provides him a sense of security, dependability he doesn’t get setting up individual dates, but this is why he puts so much into his savings.  

“Now, I know you’re a gentleman,” Bitty says, “but I’ll remind you that you’re paying for my company. That may involve sex if we both want it and have discussed it, but I do not offer pay for play- money for sex- and if you prefer, I have the number of a very reputable escort company.”

Jack shakes his head, a little dazed, and says that he doesn't expect sex, now or ever, if Bitty doesn't want.

Bitty’s very certain he’s not never going to want sex with Jack, especially with the way Jack’s biceps keep straining against the arms of his suit, but it’s a sentiment he appreciates all the same.

“Do you have any questions or comments for me?” Bitty asks. He’s tried to be thorough, knowing now that Jack is new to this, but he’s sure Jack is still processing some of it.

“Uh.” Jack plays with his fork, thinking. “Just… please don’t call me daddy?”

Bitty snorts, effectively ruining his poise, but Jack just laughs at him. “Deal,” Bitty says.

When the bill comes, Jack hands over his card without so much as a blink, and Bitty peeks to make sure he leaves a suitable tip. It’s late now, most of the tables cleared off and the staff chatting away in the kitchen. Lardo pokes her head out and Bitty gives her a discreet thumbs up. The date went better than Bitty had anticipated, and he’s flattered when Jack holds out Bitty’s suit jacket and helps him in it.

They walk outside, standing close enough for their elbows to brush, and Bitty savours the last weeks of summer. The air still carries a hint of the warmth from the middle of the day, the heat baked into the roads and sidewalks that lingers even now with the sun set behind the horizon.

Jack talks to the valet, and when they’re left alone under the awning Jack puts a hand on Bitty’s back, placed respectably. “Do you need a ride home?”

Bitty declines. He never accepts rides on a first date, or even second or third, and he shakes his head at Jack’s offer of an Uber.  

“Taxi’s fine,” Bitty says, so Jack pulls a few bills from his wallet for the fare, then a few extra. Bitty’s learned from horror stories online how careful he has to be to hide his identity: he can be traced by the license plates of his car, and Uber will show Jack his home address, so Bitty sticks to cabbing.

Jack's car pulls up to them, and Bitty can’t help but check it out; it looks expensive but sensible, luxurious without trying. Bitty puts his hand on Jack's arm, ready to bid him goodbye when a few girls walk past, chatting loudly, if not a bit drunkenly. One of them says “that's him!” while the other drags her along, harshly whispering at her not to bother him.

Bitty thinks maybe there is a reason Jack won't share his last name. Jack tries to pretend nothing happened, but there's a flush on his cheeks, and he turns from them resolutely. Bitty feels like he’s being left out of some city-wide in joke, the only person who doesn’t know who he is.

A cab drives by and Jack hails it. The easy touches and secret smiles are gone, and Jack keeps distance between them as he opens the taxi door for Bitty to slide in.

“Bye, Bitty.”  It’s like the beginning of their date again, when Jack’s eyes moved like a trapped animal’s. Bitty can see how Jack looks at Bitty’s lips, but then he pulls back suddenly.

“Bye, Jack.” 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s just so hot.” 

 

Bitty’s on the phone with Lardo, wrist-deep in a ball of still-sticky dough that’s resisting his kneading. Flour and dough smudge across his forehead as he tries to wipe away a bead of sweat, and he doesn’t bother trying to remove it; he’s been in the kitchen for hours, and at this point, he’s more baking ingredients than human. “I could make more money with someone else, but… did you see his shoulders?” 

 

“I saw his shoulders, Bitty,” Lardo says for probably the third time. Bitty knows he’s rambling but he can’t seem to stop himself. Even though their first date ended on a stale note when Jack froze outside the cab, their dinner was one of the best first dates Bitty’s ever had with a client. Once he warmed up, Jack was polite and charming, even cracking a few jokes and touching Bitty’s foot under the table. When the night ended and Bitty counted the bills Jack handed him, he felt a sense of accomplishment, not just because of the money he made, but because he put his skills to the test, talking and flirting his way past a few of what must be many walls. 

 

“I love how shy he is? It’s so endearing.” Bitty sighs dreamily. “The last guy I was with, it was always  _ me-me-me-blah-blah-hedge fund management _ , but Jack? He asked so many questions about me, what I liked, my schooling. So sweet.”  

 

Lardo is a bit more skeptical. “If he’s not out, what are you guys gonna do together? It’s not like he can take you to fancy work parties. You don’t even know  _ where  _ he works. Or if he works.” 

 

In the past, Bitty’s closeted clients were more likely to bring him on more secluded dates, like weekends at private beaches or mountain resorts; they certainly never left him wanting. But if Jack’s as busy as he said, there might not be time for romantic getaways, but Bitty wants to give it a shot. He sets the dough into a bowl to rise and wipes his hands absently on his apron. 

 

“Well, he texted me a bit after our date last week. He wants to meet up again for coffee this weekend, and maybe cook us a nice dinner. It’s perfect timing because with that cash I can finish paying for my online classes without dipping into my savings.” 

 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’re taking more classes,” Lardo says, voicing what Bitty’s been thinking to himself. “It’s too bad Jack can’t buy you better time management skills.”

 

“ _ Har har _ , Miss Duan,” Bitty says dryly. “I’ll have you know I’ve been working on those skills and they have improved significantly since I was nineteen years old.” And they have - not that Bitty never lapses into a solid bout of procrastination now and then, Lord knows that’s a habit he’ll never shake, but juggling multiple sugar daddies, a vlog, and time with friends and family has engrained some skills into him. He sighs. “I wish I knew what I wanted to do back at RIC so I could have taken some business classes then.” Not that Bitty doesn’t appreciate his American Studies degree, but these days it’s worth about as much as the paper it’s printed on. Had he known going into college that his vlog would take off the way it did, he would have taken the classes he needs now to keep it growing. 

 

“Honestly, dude, I’m super proud of you. And hey- maybe you can put some of your new knowledge to the test for me and market my artwork to galleries so someone will actually carry my pieces,” Lardo says with a huff.

 

“For you, anything.”

 

“Thanks, Bits. And good luck. I gotta bounce. I think I’m getting high on varnish.” 

 

They say their goodbyes, and Bitty hangs up after several attempts at hitting the End Call button with his flour-less elbow. After a bit of cleaning and a thorough washing of his sticky hands, Bitty leaves the kitchen with several detailed threats to the dough about what will happen if it doesn’t rise to his satisfaction. This is is sixth time adjusting the recipe and he just wants one successful bread recipe to add to his cookbook; the cookbook that might not be just a pipedream anymore. He’s been saving money to make it a reality, and with school he’ll be gaining the knowledge needed to put himself out there. He’s been approached by several publishers, drawn by the growing popularity of his vlog, each of them offering pitiful contracts that all but remove him from the process, nothing more than a name and face on the cover of the book. He’s decided to take it into his own hands.  

 

Turns out, publishing a book is hard work. There are publishers to talk to, some focused on cookbooks, others drawn towards trendy and youth-geared vloggers, and anyone else in between. He’s going to need a lawyer to look over contracts, probably a publicist, and that all takes time he doesn’t have yet. The money- well, he’s working on that. 

 

As soon as he’s ready to settle into the couch and zone out with his teeth whitening tray in, his phone starts vibrating again, this time with a call from his mom. He groans and pulls the tray out, wiping off the remaining goop, before accepting the call. 

 

“Hi, mother,” he says, muting the TV and sticking his phone back on speaker. He drops it onto his chest and kicks his feet up onto the armrest.

 

“Hi, sweetie. Is this a good time?” She asks like she doesn’t call at this time every single week. Bitty’s learned to schedule his life around this phone call. “You’re starting classes soon, aren’t you?” 

 

Bitty tells her when they start, only a few weeks from now, and she asks if he needs any money to help. 

 

“I’ve got a scholarship because of my vlog,” he lies, feeling guilty. “And some money saved up from work, remember that big order of jam I sold?” 

 

Last week Bitty sent out a huge order placed specifically for his jam. He’s been asked to make orders in the past, which he had to decline for logistics sakes, but whoever it was that emailed him promised a payment Bitty couldn’t turn down. He’s got that money put away to buy his parents a present for Christmas. 

 

“Y’all have done enough more than enough to help me.” Bitty’s been more open with his parents, coming out to them after graduation and showing mama his vlog, but there’s no way he can tell them about his job. They might have taken his coming out far better than expected, but working as a sugar baby- they wouldn’t understand. 

 

“Will there be any nice boys in your classes?” 

 

Bitty rolls his eyes. The problem with coming out is that now he has to deal with his overly-invested mother, keen on making up for the years of gossip she missed out on.

 

“I don’t know mother, they’re online.” 

 

“Are you getting out and meeting people? It seems like you’re spending so much time at work. You’re young! Go out and find some friends. Your father and I can support you a little longer-” 

 

“Mama, I’m fine. I promise I have plenty of friends, I’m just not looking for a relationship right now.” Which is technically true. It’d be hard to juggle a boyfriend and a sugar daddy.  

 

She talks about the family, not much has changed since last week but she still makes a full report, and Bitty expertly evades her questions about the jam recipe he used for the big order. Instead, he talks about the fresh lavender growing on his balcony, and how well it complimented the blackberries he picked from a bushel nearby. Thankfully, Coach comes home just then and Bitty can speak to him without worrying about their conversation turning to jam rivalries or crushes or emotions of any kind. Coach talks about getting ready for the next football season for a while, and they hang up after trading ‘I love you’s. 

 

Finally able to relax, Bitty puts his whitening trays back in and sinks into the couch, pulling out his work phone. He keeps it separate in order to keep his real identity a secret. With so many apps making him visible to clients whenever he’s nearby, he’s learned to carry this one on dates, keeping his location off at all times and never storing any personal information on it. Some days it seems like overkill, but safety has to come first. 

 

He has new messages on Tinder and Seeking Arrangement, the apps he uses to find potential sugar daddies, and he checks them. Most of them are the same variations of “nudes?” that he ignores. Who raised these guys? Forget them. He opens up his conversation with Jack. Bitty likes to send little messages every couple of days, nothing requiring a detailed response - he knows his clients are busy men and he doesn’t want to pester, but just enough to let them know he’s thinking of them. Flattery is a highly profitable skill. 

 

_ Looking forward to our coffee date :) _ he sends, and he’s surprised when his phone chimes back only a few minutes later. 

 

_ Me too _ , Jack replies. Then, _ I’m going to the gym after our date. Wanna join? _

 

Bitty nods his head from side to side, considering. He has a gym membership but he doesn’t go nearly enough. He knows he should, but it’s so easy to just … not. Jack looks like someone who would be intense, deadlifting and using all the machines Bitty finds intimidating, but on the other hand, Bitty would probably get the best workout of his life with Jack around. He might even reach his long-abandoned new year’s resolution of adding more weight to his squats. 

 

_ Sure _ , he sends back with trepidation. 

 

Jack asks if he has proper workout gear; stuffed in the back of his closet, Bitty has some old RIC sweats and tees he uses when he’s by himself, but he’s not going to show up looking like a slob. And the Ivy Park fall collection just came out. 

 

Soon there’s a notification for just over $1000 put into his account. “For the date tomorrow,” is the message that comes with it, “and to buy yourself some outfits. Make sure you get shoes with good support.” 

 

Bitty’s saved some cute running shoes on his phone, so he sends the picture to Jack.  _ Like these? _

 

Bitty can practically hear Jack sighing helplessly on the other end.  _ Why don’t we postpone our coffee date and I’ll take you shopping for clothes. _

 

Bitty grins and kicks his feet; he loves shopping dates.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day Bitty meets Jack outside a sports shop he’s never been to in a strip mall on the outskirts of the city. Jack is dressed… plainly. A snap back pulled low on his head, a simple tee that is, in Bitty’s mind, perfect for not distracting from the body underneath it, and some gym shorts that cling to the curve of his ass. It’s infuriating how good he looks without even trying. 

 

“Hey,” Jack says as Bitty comes up, his hand hovering awkwardly at his waist, unsure of how to greet him. He looks torn between a hug and a handshake, so Bitty puts him out of his misery by giving Jack’s forearm a light squeeze.  “You look nice.” 

 

“Well, thank you.” Bitty’s wearing a nice button down and jeans, casual and easy to change in and out of. He left the Rolex and designer bag at home; some clients wanted him decked out in luxury goods, a walking, breathing demonstration of just how much money they had. Looking at Jack, he’s glad he did. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable showing off, and Bitty doesn’t want to draw any extra attention. “Shall we get started?”

 

Jack holds the door open for Bitty, giving him the lightest touch on the small of the back as he passes, but Jack’s arm drops once they’re both inside. Jack leads him past hunting gear and fishing equipment, pausing to look at one of the rods on display. Thankfully, Jack doesn’t linger - Bitty’s sure no amount of money is worth pretending to have an interest in fishing- to a back wall filled with shoes. Jack and the sales associate quickly start talking shop while Bitty scans the shoes on display. 

 

Boxes are brought out and stacked in an increasingly precarious pile, and Bitty laces them all up, sometimes walking around the store while Jack asses his stride, sometimes taking them off as soon as he stands. Words like “plyometrics” “powerlifting” and “shock support” come up, and Bitty’s not sure how best to mention his trips to the gym mainly consist of a few miles on a bike and then enough squats to maintain a perky ass. Instead, he tries on what must be every shoe in existence before Jack nods, satisfied.

 

“How about these four?” He gestures to Bitty’s keep pile, shoes that fall into the rare intersection of aesthetically pleasing and high quality. “That way you have two pairs for running and two pairs for training, and you never have to wear the same pair two days in a row.”  

 

Bitty thinks he’s starting to figure it out: Jack talks about the things that interest him and is silent about the things that don’t. He knows Jack likes history and working out, seen him looking wistfully at a fishing rod, so he makes it his goal to discover all the topics that make Jack excited. 

 

Jack takes the boxes and carries all of them to the cash register. When he’s given the total Bitty makes to grab his wallet, Jack already sent him money for this, but Jack has his card out and pays before Bitty gets the chance. 

 

“Do you want to look at some clothes while we’re here?” 

 

Bitty shakes his head. “You had your fun, now I’m gonna have mine. You’re taking me to  Nordstrom’s.” 

 

They take an Uber to the department store, where Jack follows Bitty around without complaint while still carrying two large bags of shoes. He looks interested, if a bit overwhelmed when Bitty gets to the Ivy Park display and immediately begins rambling about the brand while pulling out pieces to try on. 

 

“Is that the single lady?” Jack asks. He laughs at Bitty’s horrified expression, and keeps asking stupid questions just to rile Bitty up.

 

The other shoppers look wholly uninterested in anything other than shopping, and even the sales staff leave them be, too busy being bored and beautiful off in the corners of their departments. Jack tails Bitty through the racks like an oversized, affectionate puppy. Hidden behind curtains of clothing, Jack moves his hands freely, catching Bitty’s attention by tugging at his sleeves or patting his waist when he wants to point out something ugly they can make fun of. 

 

“Is this Justin Bieber?” Jack asks when Toxic starts playing over the speakers. He can't keep his face straight, though, and his shoulders bounce in a silent chuckle.

 

“I know you know who Britney Spears is,” Bitty says, scooping up compression shorts and leggings in a dramatic huff. “Now, if you can stop being so  _ wrong  _ for a moment, I’m going to try these on.” 

 

To his surprise, Jack follows him towards the fitting rooms. 

 

“Do I get to see them?” Jack asks. 

 

“Of course.” Showing off his compression shorts doesn’t exactly seem like the most platonic activity, but Jack is in a good mood, laughing and flirting, and the store is nearly empty. He still clams up when the sales assistant comes by to unlock the changing room door, but when she leaves he leans comfortably against the wall, arms crossed, waiting. 

 

As he slips into the skin-tight leggings, he’s glad he’s kept up with his squats, even if he’s been lagging in his workouts. On the booty-scale, he’ll never compete with Jack, but as he checking himself out in the mirror, he’s proud of what he’s got. The long tank-top with extra wide arm holes covers his front he doesn’t need to reveal too much, not in public, but shows off his arms and shoulders. 

 

“Wouldn’t this be a cute outfit for running?” Jack straightens up when Bitty steps into the main room, his eyes dragging down Bitty’s body. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Jack’s voice cracks. “I like the top.”

 

He takes a tentative step forward, pinches the fabric of the tank between his fingers and rubs his thumb over it, admiring. Confident no one’s around, Bitty hitches the hem over the waistband of the pants. 

 

“Do the leggings fit?” He feels Jack’s sudden exhale ghosting over his collarbone. 

 

“Bitty.” It’s not a warning, if anything it’s an invitation, but Bitty backs off, confident he made the impression he wanted. He locks himself back in the change room and makes quick work of getting into the next outfit. 

 

The shorts he puts on are not the kind of shorts he would wear on their own while working out; short and loose-fitting, but if they’re good enough for Beyoncé they’re good enough for him. They’re good enough for Jack, too, based on his reaction. 

 

“They come in blue, too,” Bitty says, giving a small spin so Jack gets the whole picture. “Which do you prefer?” 

 

“Blue,” Jack says quickly. “If any of it comes in blue, you should get that.” 

 

Bitty raises an eyebrow - he didn’t expect Jack to feel so strongly about it, but he smiles and goes to try on his next outfit. While he’s changing, the stylist comes in and asks about fit. Jack asks Bitty to show her the shorts he just had on, so he gently lobs them over the door. 

 

“Can we get all the blue ones in this size, please?”

 

They walk up the cashier with several athletic outfits and more blue shorts than Bitty knows what to do with (though he thinks Jack must have a few ideas). Jack throws a duffel bag, athletic socks, and a water bottle in for good measure, “so you’re all set for the gym, eh?”

 

For the record, Bitty does offer to carry some of the bags, but Jack insists on hauling all of them, and makes a point to hold all the doors open for Bitty to pass through. 

 

“You’re making this very difficult for yourself, you know.” 

 

Jack just grins over his shoulder as he leaps ahead, making it to the Uber first so he can get the door. 

 

“Are you ready to work out?” Jack asks. 

 

“Hell yes I am,” Bitty replies.

 

But he was not ready.

 

“I was not ready,” Bitty mumbles, and even his face is sore. He should have known to turn around as soon as he saw a tractor tire lying in the middle of the room; nothing good could have possibly come from that. 

 

He wonders if Jack is some kind of celebrity trainer. If he is, he’s certainly good at his job. While everyone else in the gym seemed to be yelling either in agony or some kind of sadistic encouragement, Jack was quietly reassuring, occasionally looking over from his own much more strenuous workouts to check on Bitty, giving him only a nod or a quiet readjustment when needed. At least he didn’t make Bitty lift the tractor tire.

 

When he tells him that, Jack laughs. Somehow, he stills good in a tired but attractive way, as opposed to Bitty, who must just be red and splotchy.  

 

“That was fun, eh? I’ll be back here tomorrow with my trainer but it’s nice just to have fun while I can. No pressure.” 

 

Bitty balks. “This was for fun?” 

 

Wait, if Jack has a trainer, is he not one? Do trainers need trainers? The last thing Bitty needs is to strain his brain, too, so he leaves it for now. 

 

When the taxi rolls up to the front of the gym, and Bitty is quietly pretending he’s not still panting, Jack loads the shopping bags into the trunk.

 

“Can you manage them all?” He asks, looking nervously at Bitty’s shaking legs. 

 

“Oh, hush, I’ll be fine.” Not that he wouldn’t appreciate another set of (muscled, strong) arms to haul his bags into the apartment, but he’ll manage on his own. 

 

“See you,” Jack says, slipping him a fifty to pay the fare and pressing a quick, stealthy kiss to Bitty’s cheek. 

 

Bitty does make it up to his place in one trip and without any major limbs giving out, even if he did spend the entire elevator ride with his face pressed against the stainless steel walls, savouring the cold on his cheeks. There was no one around to impress. He doesn’t shower so much as wobble under a cold spray before drying off quickly. 

 

His body tells him to crawl into bed and never leave, but he still has work to do. Inspired for a next video, he sorts through the kitchen, pulling out a tub of protein powder and fruit from the fridge before he turns his camera on. 

 

“Hey y’all! I just got back from one of the most intense gym experiences of my life, so today’s video is gonna show you several different and delicious recipes for protein shakes with unflavoured protein powder.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting and kudos-ing!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what a dramatic increase in the rating ..............

“So, uh, this is my place.” 

 

The first thing Bitty notices about Jack’s condo is the sun shining in from the wall of windows. It’s a bright suite on the seventh floor of a modest and modern building in the downtown core, all hardwood floors and red brick walls with exposed concrete pillars. “Homey” isn’t the words Bitty would use to describe it, but the tastefully minimalist furniture and the large kitchen look lived in, with a crooked couch fraying around the edges and a few dishes abandoned on the kitchen counters. Bitty tries to not to gasp as he gets a glimpse of the double oven. 

 

Jack admits it was his mom who picked out most of the pieces. “If it was up to me, I’d probably have just put a La-Z-Boy in front of a TV. I like this better.” 

 

Bitty whips his head around from the photo on the wall he was examining and grimaces. “Spoken like a true frat bro, Jack.”

 

Jack barks out a laugh. “I was basically in a frat in college. Guess it stuck with me, eh?”

 

“Get outta here.” Bitty tries to reconcile the Jack he knows, soft-spoken and shy, with his mental image of a guy in a polo with a popped collar and khaki shorts. When he adds gelled-back bangs and shutter shades to the equation, he snorts. “Did you do, like, kegstands?”

 

“We called them keggers, but I didn’t do them. Often.” He almost looks a little pleased at Bitty’s stunned reaction. 

 

“Any other sordid tales from your college days you want to share?” Bitty pries.

 

“Ah, I was pretty boring, didn’t do the partying thing unless the boys dragged me out. I mostly focused on my classes.” He nods at the photo Bitty had been looking at. “Spent most of senior year behind a camera.”

 

Bitty turns back to the landscape. “You took this?”

 

“Yeah. All the photos on the walls are mine.”

 

Bitty walks around the perimeter, examining the framed pictures. The larger photos are landscapes of various terrain, some forested mountains, others sprawling deserts and clustered hoodoos. What catches his eye are the photos that could have been taken anywhere: sun scattered through a broken window, the spokes of a bicycle. Details anyone could have walked past, but Jack saw them, made them beautiful. 

 

“I travel a lot for work, but I don’t get much time to explore,” Jack explains. “So I have to shoot on a small scale, sometimes I only see a few blocks of a city. It’s a fun challenge.” 

 

Bitty is buzzing with curiosity. He still hasn’t figured out what it is Jack does, and he’s starting to think he must be an actor or model: the way he talks about traveling for work, Bitty imagines him getting called to shoots all over the world. 

 

He thought he might be able to find some clue into Jack’s work when he visited his home, like he might have movie posters with his face on the walls. In retrospect, it was pretty silly to think it; if someone walked into Bitty’s apartment, they’d have no idea he was a sugar baby.

 

But Jack’s been busier as fall sets in, ducking out of dates for vague meetings and more gym sessions, then rescheduling at the last minute. When they did manage time together, Jack preferred quiet dates, walks around the harbour or evening runs through the park nearby. Jack always showed up with a present and a bit of extra cash as an apology, but he still seemed a bit distant, like there was something weighing on him.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about work, actually,” Jack says. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, and I really appreciate you working around my schedule. I think work is going to be hectic like this for a while and -” he gestures to the couch. “Do you want to sit?”

 

Bitty feels his stomach drop. Jack’s going to end it. His brain reels with all he’s done to annoy Jack; he was too pushy, required too much, God, he knew it. They perch on the couch, Jack leaning against the back, Bitty sitting upright, schooling his face into something neutral.   

 

“I got promoted.” 

 

Bitty plays the words over in his head before he registers it. 

 

“Oh! Oh, Jack. That’s incredible! Congratulations!” Bitty reaches out, places his hands over Jack’s. 

 

Jack’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, it’s an incredible opportunity and obviously I’m honoured- uh. Sorry, I think I just went into my work voice. Heh.”

 

“That’s okay,” Bitty says, his tone encouraging him to continue. 

 

“Oh yeah. Well. My t- co workers have been so supportive of me, and I thought maybe… not right away but maybe in a few months when things have calmed down, I could fly you out sometimes, when I’m working, so I can see you more. If you want?”

 

When Jack says ‘a couple months,’ Bitty understands that Jack isn’t ready to share with him just yet. He pushes that thought from his mind, focuses on the positives: Jack wants to spend more with him, to fly him out. And of course Bitty is happy to spend more time with Jack, but now he’ll have to bring up the topic of extra money. If Jack is looking for the boyfriend experience, that’s going to require a lot more of Bitty’s time and energy. 

 

Bitty likes Jack, likes their dates and easy conversations, but a job is a job and the time he’s with Jack is time he could be spending with someone else, adding to his funds. He hopes bringing it up won’t offend Jack - so many of Bitty’s past clients wanted Bitty to be with them out of the generosity of his heart, like they thought Bitty was with them for anything other than their money. But Bitty has to value his time because he can’t trust that anyone else will - sticking up for himself is one of the most important parts of his jobs. So he readies himself, keeps the smile on his face and his voice light. 

 

“I’m so happy for you darlin’,” Jack smiles a little bashfully at the name. Bitty pushes Jack’s bangs off his face  a light touch to butter him up. “And I’d love to spend more time with you, but you know-” 

 

“I got a bonus, too” Jack says right away. Bitty quirks an eyebrow. “A good one. So I was thinking I could pay you monthly so you don’t have to worry about money when I’m away. And while I’m home you can be around a bit more?” Jack rattles through it like he’s practiced it, and looks nervous bringing it up, like he’s not sure if he’s crossing a line. “After a long time away, when I get home, it’s lonely having an empty house. If you were here when I got back-” 

 

Bitty bites at his lip worryingly. “You want me to move in with you?” He’s not ready for that. 

 

“No! No- I just mean, I’ll give you my schedule and if you’re here the day I get back it would be … nice. Not to come home to an empty place.” 

 

“Oh. Sure, honey.” Bitty relaxes, slumping along Jack’s side and throwing his legs over Jack’s thighs. He understands how hard it can be at the end of a long day, physically tired and mentally drained, to walk into a dark home. If Jack wants to pay Bitty to be a welcoming body in a warm apartment, Bitty will happily take the job. “Of course.” 

 

Jack winds his arm behind Bitty’s back, tugging him in closer, his hand fitting comfortably over Bitty’s hip. 

 

“That’s why I brought you here. I made a spare key for you.” It’s the first time they’ve been uninhibited with their contact, and the way Jack’s holding him now makes Bitty realize how much Jack must have been holding back on their dates. This close, Bitty can smell the mint on Jack’s breath and the spice of his body wash, feel the steady inhale and exhale of his stomach. Jack’s free hand runs up and down Bitty’s arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He looks relieved to have had this conversation, slouching a little more into the couch. 

 

Bitty gives him a reassuring smile. “Jack. You can always talk to me about what you want, and we’ll discuss it together.” 

 

Jack lets his head drop onto his shoulder, considering. “And you aren’t just going to agree to things you don’t want because I’m paying you, right?” 

 

“No, Jack. You’re paying for the privilege of my company, not the right to my body.” 

 

Jack nods once, apparently satisfied. “So can I kiss you?”

 

Bitty answers by closing the distance between them, surging up to feel his lips on Jack’s. Jack’s response is immediate, his hand closing around Bitty’s arm like he’s holding him in place. There’s no stumbling hesitancy or give-and-take in this first kiss; it’s a smooth slide of lips, falling into a perfect tempo. Slowly, trying not to disturb the kiss, Bitty pulls his legs underneath him, giving himself better leverage to lean his weight against Jack’s solid chest. Through Jack’s shirt, he can feel the definition of his chest, his abs, and he wants to touch every muscle on Jack’s body. 

 

Jack grabs his waist and tugs him up onto his lap. Bitty laughs, readjusting himself and giving Jack a light slap on the shoulder before ducking back down to continue the kiss. Jack opens up for Bitty’s tongue, smiles when Bitty pushes his hands under Jack’s shirt. 

 

He pulls back, re-focusing his eyes, takes in Jack’s flushed face and parted lips. 

 

“This okay?” He asks, nails scratching lightly over the ridges of Jack’s abs. 

 

“Yeah- yes.” Jack guides Bitty’s head to the side to kiss down his neck, and, encouraged, Bitty lets his hands roam the way he’s wanted to for so long. He shivers when Jack sucks on a spot behind his jaw, a small gasp slipping out. 

 

“You can leave a mark,” Bitty tells him, and Jack takes it to heart, working over that same spot with teeth and tongue. Jack breaks away only as Bitty tugs the hem of Jack’s shirt over his head. 

 

“Look at you,” Bitty says in awe, palming over the warm skin revealed to him, but Jack busies himself with the buttons of Bitty’s shirt instead. He doesn’t undo them all, just loosens the neckline enough to pull it up and off, throwing it in a pile with his own. 

 

“Let me blow you,” Jack says with his face buried in Bitty’s neck again. All the blood in Bitty’s body must rush south, because his head goes light and his brain stutters and stalls before finally managing a garbled “okay.”

 

Jack flips their positions so Bitty is sitting on the couch, sinking into the plush leather, composing himself while Jack runs into the bedroom to grab a condom. It’s the first time he’s been with a client he’s excited to do this with, and he has to stifle a giddy smile when Jack comes back with his belt open and jeans undone. Bitty isn’t shy about eyeing up the bulge in Jack’s pants, and when steps between Bitty’s legs, Bitty reaches around, sliding a palm up to Jack’s fantastic ass. 

 

“Like it’s carved from marble,” Bitty says, digging his fingers into the strong muscles. 

 

“I work out my glutes a lot,” Jack explains with a bemused smile. 

 

“Mmm, we all appreciate it.” Anything Bitty might have said next is cut off when Jack sinks down to his knees, his hands pushing Bitty’s legs open. 

 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Jack says apologetically, already working Bitty’s pants open. Bitty lifts his hips to give Jack room to slide his pants down, then watches as Jack rolls the condom over him, giving him a few long tugs in the process, like Bitty wasn’t hard enough already. Before he can make a quip about enthusiasm, Jack’s mouth is around him.

 

The noise Bitty makes can only be called undignified. His fingers clutch at Jack’s shoulders, not to push him away but to keep him steady. Jack takes all of Bitty’s cock easily enough, his nose tickling the small patch of hair at the base, before drawing up. 

 

Bitty moans when Jack tongues over the head. He tries to cover his mouth, but Jack grabs his wrist and guides Bitty’s hand into his hair. As he threads his fingers gently through Jack’s hair, he can feel Jack’s long, content exhale.

 

“So good, sweetheart,” Bitty says, his voice strained. Jack sinks back down, taking him all in again, starting a slow rhythm of up and down over his cock. Bitty breathes steadily, torn between closing his eyes to lose himself in the sensation and watching Jack’s lips stretched around him, his back flexing. 

 

He’s glad he chose the later when Jack looks up, his piercing blue eyes meeting Bitty’s as he licks a long stripe from root to tip. He holds eye contact for a moment before closing them again, focused again on his lips and tongue and all the amazing thing they’re doing. 

 

It’s not much longer before Bitty can feel the tightness coiling low in his belly, and he has to fight the urge to rock his hips up in time with Jack’s mouth. 

 

“Jack, I’m-” Jack redoubles his efforts, his fist on the base of Bitty’s cock, stroking up to meet his lips. Bitty clenches as pleasure builds within him, and then the release comes all at once. 

 

Jack keeps Bitty in his mouth as he comes, then pulls away slowly when the last waves have rocked through him. Bitty pants, feeling winded, only vaguely aware of Jack tugging the condom off of him. 

 

Bitty’s arm is draped over his face, his legs still spread wide.“If that’s what you’re like a little rusty, I can’t wait to give you more practice.” 

 

Jack chuckles before settling next to Bitty on the couch. He gently lifts Bitty’s arm and sets it down. “I wanted to see your face when you come. Next time, eh?” 

 

“Whatever you want, honey.” Bitty creeps his hand up Jack’s leg, finds his erection straining against the seam of his jeans. “Do you have another condom?”

 

“Too far,” Jack says, knees falling open at Bitty’s touch. “Just use your hand. ‘M close.”

 

Bitty doesn’t waste any time shift over Jack and shoving his hand into Jack’s boxers. Jack’s cock is heavy in Bitty’s hand, and the angle is awkward but he has just enough space to stroke Jack over, gathering the precum at the tip to ease his way. Jack’s head falls back with a groan.

 

“Shit,” Jack swears between clenched teeth, and he wasn’t lying about being close; Bitty can feel his balls drawing up already, and after a few more moments, Jack’s coming over Bitty’s fist.

 

Bitty makes quick work of cleaning, grabbing paper towel from the kitchen without even stopping to admire the counter-tops. 

 

Once they’re relatively less sticky, Bitty grins at Jack then leans in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Come on, why don’t you show me around?”

 

Jack shows him the main areas of the house: the living room Bitty has already become intimately acquainted with, Jack’s bedroom, a plain but tasteful room with a large bed and a walk in closet that’s nearly empty. Here, Jack quickly changes into new bottoms, just smirking when Bitty tells him he shouldn’t bother. Bitty peers into the ensuite bathroom and gasps at the soaking tub that takes up most of the space.

 

“Oh. I had that custom ordered. Baths are a guilty pleasure, I guess.” 

 

There’s a room with a closed door in the hallway that Jack skips over, an office or second bedroom, and takes Bitty back into the living room. He demonstrates the tricky door out to the balcony, and struggles to show Bitty how to work the television. After fumbling with the remote, he looks to Bitty helplessly. 

 

“Sorry. I just got it.” 

 

Taking pity, Bitty takes the remote, and together they figure out how to get it set up and activate his Netflix account. 

 

“Do you want to watch-”

 

“Aren’t you gonna show me the kitchen?” Bitty asks, eager to snoop, so Jack leads him back. 

 

There’s a good selection of pots and pans, and a high-tech blender that gets a lot of use by the looks of it. Bitty’s not surprised there’s no baking supplies, but if Jack wants him hanging around, he’ll have to pick some up.

The sound of an opening fridge door catches Bitty’s attention. 

 

“I usually just buy a little at a time,” Jack explains, “so it doesn’t go bad while I’m away. Are you hungry? I’ve got some steak to use up, and I’d like to think I’m a pretty good cook.” 

 

Bitty gives him an appraising look and a cockeyed grin. 

 

“What’s that look for?” 

 

“You think you’re pretty good, huh? Let’s see what you got, Mister.” Bitty pulls the steaks out and hands them to Jack, a challenge. 

 

Soon the smell of propane is wafting in from the balcony as Jack chops vegetables and Bitty observes from his spot on the counter, making observations. 

 

“Not putting any butter on those?” Bitty asks as Jack arranges the veggies on foil for roasting. 

 

“Butter’s not in the diet,” Jack counters, pulling a bottle of oil out to sprinkle on top of them, followed by a stingy dash of salt and a few cracks of pepper. 

 

“I can tell,” Bitty says with an appreciative look over Jack’s body. Jack’s ears go red as he slides the veggies on the grill, next to the cooking potatoes. As Jack preps the steaks, Bitty peers over his shoulder, watching him season it. He keeps teasing Jack “are you sure you don’t want to put some barbeque sauce on it? You should trim the fat off it so it doesn’t get too juicy” making Jack laugh and lightly push him away. 

 

“You’re distracting.” 

 

“Am I?” Bitty reaches out to the barbeque, pretending to adjust it “I think the fire’s too hot, you should turn it down,” and Jack grabs Bitty’s wrist, pushing it behind Bitty’s back and bending his arm. Bitty’s breath hitches, Jack is standing close, his grip strong, and Bitty wants to know what else Jack can do with that strength. 

 

It was only an hour ago Jack made him come; how many more times could he do it in one night?

 

“Sorry.” Jack drops Bitty’s hand and turns back to the grill. Bitty feels dazed, Jack’s heat replaced by the cool breeze. Jack’s back is turned, placing the steaks carefully on the grill, making perfect marks in the meat. His neck is red. Bitty lets Jack work without distracting him; Jack’s focused on the meat, checking his watch frequently, and when it’s time to flip them he does it expertly, a quick and subtle movement that doesn’t waste any of the juice. In a distracted moment, Bitty thinks that Coach would be satisfied with Jack’s grilling before banishing that train of thought from his head. 

 

“I don’t have any wine or beer,” Jack says as he lifts the food onto the plates Bitty’s holding. “I can give you a protein shake.” It takes a second for Bitty to realize Jack is joking, he says it so dryly. 

 

Jack leads Bitty past the dining table and sits next to the electric fireplace. He fiddles with the knob until it crackles to life, a romantic backdrop.

 

“Do you not drink?” Bitty asks, thinking back to their first date when all Jack ordered for himself was a water. 

 

Jack shrugs. “I do sometimes, but I don’t keep anything in the house.” He pauses, then adds, “if I did, my coworkers would steal it all, anyways. Freeloaders.”

 

Bitty nods, but doesn’t press the subject. 

 

The steaks are cooked perfectly, Bitty’s deliciously rare, Jack’s well-done. The veggies are a bit bland, and Bitty knows a few diet-friendly ways to spice them up that he’ll share later, but it’s a nice meal all in all. Bitty tells him that. 

 

“You some kind of food critic?” Jack asks. 

 

“Something like that.”     

 

They clean up together, Jack washing and Bitty drying, talking contentedly, with Jack bumping their hips together from time to time. When Bitty goes to leave he pushes himself up to his toes and plants a kiss on Jack’s lips. Jack kisses back, hands steadying on Bitty’s hips, but before long he’s pulling away. 

 

“I have to work early,” Jack says, an apology in his voice. “I wish you could stay-”

 

“It’s okay,” Bitty replies, wishing he could stay, too, but not saying anything. 

 

“The guys are going to pick me up in the morning and-”

 

“It’s okay,” Bitty says again, quieting Jack with another kiss. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a great trip honey.”

 

Jack watches Bitty leave all the way to the elevator. Bitty’s truck is parked along the street, and Bitty settles into the driver’s seat. He pulls his keys from his pocket, and grabs his phone to check out of habit. There’s a notification from his bank; ten thousand dollars have been deposited into his account.

 

He rests his forearms on the steering wheel and exhales hard enough to puff his cheeks. After everything that happened tonight, Bitty let himself forget that he was getting paid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so so so much for your incredibly kind words! It's honestly a little overwhelming. Im overwhelmed with love. I don't always have the social energy to reply to them all but they are so appreciated! Thanks for tagging along with me on this ridiculous au.   
> as always im thehausghosts on tumblr


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